


Strife's Silence

by Iunara



Series: Strife's Symphony [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Lydia is a good Housecarl, More worldbuilding, Not In Chronological Order, Scenes that did not make it into the fic, background exploring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 07:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iunara/pseuds/Iunara
Summary: These are the scenes that won't be shown on "Voice of Strife". Will be random scenes and interactions that I wanted to write and wished to share. Mostly background at the moment, maybe some scenes that were missed. You can request what you want to read.





	Strife's Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted to me by a fellow Ao3 user  aureliu_s "Do I know you."  
> Ayera and Ulfric's first and fateful meeting that sets up their relationship dynamic. Warnings: towards the end graphic deaths.

* * *

The Palace of Kings fit Windhelm. Why that had been her first thought after once she was waved inside, Ayera could not quite say. Was it how oppressive grey and dour it looked? The large, bulky stones did not differ much from the steel grey sky. Depressing and oppressing with how it towered over her, throwing long shadow that reached to the Candlehearth Hall. Immediate chills had run down her back and arms when she had stepped into the dim courtyard where a guard had demanded what their business was.

Inside was not much different. Large space that was barely decorated except a long rug leading to the throne dais and large Stormcloaks banners hanging on the walls. Cold blue light fell in through the windows at the far end, illuminating the equally grey throne. Unoccupied and empty. Just like the court was missing. Only guards and who she assumed was the steward. He sat behind a scribing desk akin to one Proventus had in Whiterun, the feather moving rapidly as he wrote letters or orders down. It seemed like she had arrived during a break in the court. Eyes behind steel-helmets followed her every step to the desk. Probably because she still had her hood still up, but she was not yet ready to reveal her obvious elven heritage to the heart of the Stormcloak rebellion. Still protocol dictated that she’d announce herself to the steward before attending court so he could introduce her. Should Ulfric choose to acknowledge her or push the date of hearing her.

Half-way to the Steward who still had not acknowledged her, she tucked off her gloves and handed them to Lydia. Pulling her fur hood back was where she hesitated slightly. If she didn’t the guards might not even let her bring forth her petition. But her white hair and elven ears were not going to well-received either. Lydia sent her a sympathetic smile, her hand placed visibly on the pommel of her sword. A promise and her oath to protect her at all costs openly displayed. With an easier exhale, Ayera pulled her hood back, tucking a stray braid back into its place.

A guard shifted, the plates of his armour clinking together and she could see the grip on his halberd tighten. As she had known what would happen. Nonetheless she was here now. Turning around would look bad and she needed the money from the bounty on a dragon. She might as well deliver her petition while she was there. Lydia walked directly behind her, the ever loyal housecarl. What would she do without her?

Once she was a few feet away from the scribing desk, the steward lifted his head. At least he made the effort of showing a cordial but distant face.

“Who wishes to talk to the court of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and rightful High King of Skyrim?”

Ayera resisted rolling her eyes. High King? The moot would decide that.

“Ayera, Thane of Whiterun.” She clasped her hands together. “I come with a fulfilled bounty and a petition to the Jarl of Eastmarch.”

She bit the tip of her tongue to not say the ‘High King’ part. In these parts she’d rather maintain her neutrality unless on official request from Balgruuf.

“A thane? I am the steward, Jorleif.” The steward got up from his seat giving her a curious look. “What bounty do you wish to claim?”

“The bounty on the dragon near the Bonestrewn crest.” She laid down the bounty letter she had found in Darkwater Crossing with its tiny inn.

Jorleif’s face paled, almost as grey as the stone around him. “You….?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, do you require proof?”

Jorleif shifted on his feet, unsure until she took the pouch from her waist and showed the bare dragonscale lying inside.

“Eastmarch and Jarl Ulfric thank you for your service. We are glad to hear that the dragon will no longer terrorise the settlements.” Jorleif’s voice was unsteady, but his hand was steady when he opened the desk to pull out a fat pouch with metallic clinking inside. “Jarl Ulfric is currently in a debriefing and the court will recommence once it is concluded.”

“May I remain here?” She asked. “We have travelled from Kynesgrove.”

Jorleif sent her an understanding smile. “Do enjoy the hospitality of the Stormcloak court and warm your bones.” He pointed at the long tables framing the rug leading to the dais.

Immediately after Lydia and she had sat down and stretched their legs from the long trek, the court started to file into the hall. Nobles and burly men and women in Stormcloak garb accompanied from the court wizard who sat down next to them. An elderly man called Wuunferth the Unliving whose joints hurt when he had to handle alchemy or write scrolls. Moments later food and mead were served, amiable chatter filling the otherwise empty space. Mead still made her stomach roll, so she nipped on water and the cheese with bread. Lydia hummed happily into her horn of mead.

She was done eating when more guards filed in, lining up in front of the throne dais. More heavily armoured and decorated. Craning her neck, she heard a metal door swing open and heavy foot steps until she saw Ulfric Stormcloak in his full regalia sitting down. The guards stood more stiffly and then Jorleif stood up from his desk.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Eastmarch and High King of Skyrim, has opened the court on the fifteenth of Sun’s Dawn. Your names will be called and only then may you step in the presence of his grace to deliver your petition and hear his judgement. Renstatt Arkton, Thane of Lower Yorgrim, please step forward.”

They were the last to be called on. If it was meant as an insult or simply because they had announced themselves too late, Ayera was not sure. Not that she could say anything on the matter.

Drumming her fingers on the dark wood table, she listened to all courtiers present their petitions. Mostly about supplies and reports on border skirmishes. Mundane given that a war was being fought.

“Last petitioner.” Jorleif finally called out from his scroll. “Ayera, Thane of Whiterun.”

A hush fell over the hall when she stood up with Lydia right behind her. Relations between Whiterun and Eastmarch were frosty at best, so a thane visiting meant something important. As if, they were going to be disappointed if they thought that she brought a negotiation offer to the court.

A small gap was formed in front of the throne so she had a full view on Ulfric who lounged lazily on his seat. Hooded eyes watched her approach. Fingers tapped on his armrest, impatient and eager to leave. His eyes kept wandering every few heart beats to the door he had come from. Only until she had drawn close enough, he went impossibly still. Recognition flashed in his face and he leaned forward when she came to stop right in front of the first step leading to the base of his throne.

“Do I know you?” He asked, his deep voice matching the deep frown that carved into his face.

Jorleif shifted uncomfortably at the inappropriately informal address. But she pinched her lips together. Had he not made the connection yet? After Ralof had nearly thrown her on top of him back in Helgen?

“Helgen.” She merely said.

If he did not care about protocol, then she’d breach it in return.

Ulfric narrowed his eyes taking her in for true this time. “I remember you. The unfortunate Halfling elf the Imperials caught.”

“Aye.” She pushed her chin up in the air.

He was looking down on her… The way how disgust curled his mouth into a taunting smirk… How dare he!

The guards exchanged nervous glances, unsure what to do. Her insolence would be the first they probably ever had witnessed. Then again, Ulfric had not been bothered to initiate protocol with her.

“I suppose you have _hidden_ strength.” Ulfric huffed, satisfied with his implication and leaned back with a dismissive smile.

She bristled, but stopped short of a retort when he opened his palm to her.

“What is your petition?” He asked already bored.

Ayera had to draw herself up to her full height, slightly taller than Lydia and some Nords.

“On the behest of Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun, I have travelled the holds of Skyrim to scout for dragons….”

“Dragons?” Ulfric laughed in disbelief. “What do _you_ know of dragons?”

This little… Ayera had to draw a deep breath. Her chest was vibrating as her Thu’um roared at the taunt. How dare he? She was the Dragonborn and he was a mere mortal! Unleashing her power would be so easy. See them grovel at her feet as she brought down the ancient stones around them…. Stop… she swallowed down the urge to let her soul and blood speak. To not let it scream in its outrage, to show who was the most powerful in this entire room.

“I know what the legends and records say.” She replied coolly and she was glad her tone did not betray anything. “Hence why _I_ was chosen to do this.”

“Balgruufs’s decisions are beyond me.” Ulfric still smirked down on her. “Alas, if you are just following your orders then regale us. What were your… _observations_?”

Fine. She’d do this quickly and then they’d leave immediately.

“Dragons have reached Eastmarch long ago.” She started. “I have found evidence of attacked caravans and patrols and that more are hiding in the mountains…”

“We have put a bounty on the one hiding on bonestrewn crest.” Ulfric interrupted.

Laughter rose behind her, as if this was a great jest. As if she was the fool here for repeating. She looked to Jorleif. Had he not said anything yet? His face was so ashen he should stop before being carted off to the Gray Quarter. After a heavy swallow, Jorleif bent down to whisper into Ulfric’s ear. Too late though, the hum of the Thu’um was back and she could no longer push it back.

It came with a low rumble. One that made the ground vibrate. Everything fell silent. Fear shone brightly in the eyes of the guards. Ulfric’s mouth had fallen open in shock. What must be his housecarl had stepped forward, weapon slightly drawn as he looked for the threat.

“I _suggest_ you listen.”

Her command was like thunder clapping against stones, echoing more than once. The stones shook, the banners flapped in a summoned wind and the ground shook. Tables creaked and the guards were had to hold themselves up on their halberds. Shouts and cries were drowned by the crush of stones moving. Lydia was gripping at her belt, unaffected by her show of power. Ready to bolt. Whether because she was being chased or in case she brought the whole palace down on their heads. Mortar rained down on them, dusting her face as she continued.

“I killed the dragon, collected the bounty on it.” She bared her teeth, talking louder than the rumbling and the wind. “I have looked at the settlements, taken note of their protections and I found them _lacking_.”

She closed her mouth and the rumbling and shaking stopped. Silence falling over them that screamed of fear, terror and utter awe. This had been no true taste of her Thu’um. A whisper compared to the tales she had read.

Ulfric was the first to gather his thoughts. “How dar…”

She growled viciously with her teeth in full view. More shaking, the plates and utensils rattled and clinked and a banner flipped around completely.  

“You will listen to the _Dragonborn_.” She declared. “I have _killed_ the dragon. Took its power and very soul. There are more, I know and can sense that there are more and more are coming back each day. I will not be around for each and single one in this Hold. _I_ came here with a _petition_ to fortify your walls, built your houses with stone with enchantments woven into them. So _your_ people would be _protected_! But I see that you _presume_ I know nothing!”

Silence reigned over the hall again. Eyes were solely on her now, Lydia’s grip on her belt was shaking. Even she had not gotten used to these demonstrations of power. Ulfric’s housecarl had drawn his Warhammer, standing halfway in front of Ulfric. Waiting for permission, but in his eyes was unbridled awe and disgust. This one would be first to go, she snapped her eyes solely on him. Staring him down with her teeth bared in a snarl.

“ _You_?” Ulfric was breathless, clinging to his seat with all his might. “ _Dragonborn_?”

“Care to have a tinvaak?” She smiled broadly at him.

Ulfric’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened. Oh she knew what he had been before the War. How was he so surprised?

“I see the Greybeards have grown senile in their age.” Ulfric had shot up from his seat, hands balled into fists.

“They see clearer than most.” She spat back.

“No _elf_ could ever hold the power of Talos!” Ulfric cut through the air with his hand.

“You will find that _Akatosh_ has no such reservations.”

“Don’t lecture me….”

“Apparently I am.” She shot in between.

Lydia jostled on her belt. A reprimand to not overdo it. Too late!

“You stole this power.” Ulfric gasped in utter contempt pointing at her with his meaty index finger.

“I did not _know_ we elves are born already committing thefts!” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Ulfric snarled then. “You are no Nord and that means you cannot possibly be the Dragonborn. Where have you learned the Thu’um?!”

“The dragon at the tower in Whiterun. Then after answering the summons to Monahven.”

“Imposter! Be glad I won’t throw you into the dungeons for your insolence!”

“The Greybeards would disagree.”

“Only Nords can hold this power.”

Ayera wanted to roll her eyes. But the guards had shaken off their freeze and their halberds were tilted towards her. Dungeons? That would be ridiculous! The diplomatic fall out with Whiterun would be catastrophic! Especially when its neutrality ensured his success so far.

“The statement is untrue then.” She shrugged. “I have delivered my petition. We are _done_ here.”

Lydia re-adjusted her grip, a sign of relief but also of readiness to haul her away in an instant.

“Not so fast.” Ulfric hissed, his own voice lying behind it.

Nothing shook, no banner moved. Only an echo… It was so much weaker, it was pathetic…. So uncontrolled, unnatural with no dragonsoul speaking to her. What a worm… she shot him a scathing look. Was this supposedly impressive?

“What else is there to be said? My petition has been brought forth and you have met me with open scorn about who I am. I think we are done here.”

Ulfric jerked his head. “No we are not.”

Before she could react, the guards moved in one fluid motion. Forming a circle around her and Lydia. Halberds leveled so her way out was blocked.

“I am willing to forgive you for your crimes.”

“What crime?” She shot back, her soul answering to his feeble challenge.

A few men in front of her went their knees, their weapons clattering against the floor. Howling winds crashed against the window.

“You dare attack my men?” Ulfric gave out an ugly laugh. “Elf, you are walking on thin ice.”

“The only thin ice here is the one that is your head.”

Ulfric took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. “I am willing to forgive your transgressions _only if_ you fight for my cause.”

Had he… she froze. Was he mad? Why would she fight for him? Had he not heard her? Her duty was not to the war? It was to the dragons terrorizing the lands and they’d kill them all. They did not care who won or lost!

“I have more important duties than a war.” She scoffed.

She should have never made the effort of going around and compiling a neat scroll of all suggestions to heed! This was by far the worst any Jarl had ever treated her! And the Jarl of Winterhold had been the worst before she had arrived here. Threats of being thrown into the dungeons…. By the divines, let this be just a wild dream.

“What is more important than Skyrim?”

“The dragons? Entire Nirn?” She spluttered. “I refuse and you will let me go. Do you really think Balgruuf and the other Holds will forgive _you_ if you imprison me? Especially on empty grounds!”

Ulfric pinched his mouth into a thin line. This was not going his way. Scrapes of benches being pushed backwards were heard as the court stood up, staring in confusion and shock at what was taking place.

“So you refuse?”

“After you insulted me?” She crossed her arms. “And on top of my actual duties? No. Oh and before I forget. I have seen the Grey Quarters before coming here. What guarantee would I have that I will not be treated similarly to them after the war?”

“Leave.” Ulfric ordered pointing at the door. His voice had lost all of its previous power, leaving it frail and broken.

“As you wish.” The walls shook again and Lydia was already pulling her forcibly away.

Once outside the city walls and past the stables did she and Lydia stop. Panting hard, they stared at each other.

“I assume this is a ban on Windhelm?” She joked slightly.

“Yes.” Lydia was white-faced, sweat running down her temples. “I would have never thought it’d end like this.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Ayera put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, squeezing through the thick cloak. “My duty says I need to warn the Jarls and how to respond. Not our fault that this one was….”

“Stupid?” Lydia was laughing now and she re-adjusted the strap of her backpack. “At least we were paid.”

“True.” Ayera snickered. “Let’s get moving before he decides we are banned from the whole Hold.”        

Lydia looked to the sky. “If we hurry, we can get to the Nightgate Inn before nightfall.”

“Alright. To think we wasted all this time!” Ayera groused, pulling her gloves back on. “The next….”

“Ayera, Thane of Whiterun.” Someone called, metallic clangs of armour and weapons rang out. “You are under arrest by the orders of Ulfric Stormcloak!”

Lydia drew her sword and Ayera stared at the group of Stormcloaks approaching them. All their weapons visible and their faces set in determination. Had he changed his mind so quickly? Frowning she stared at the seemingly higher ranking soldier.

“Has his ‘highness’ changed his mind?” She mocked lightly. “First he lets me go and then wants to arrest me? Has he no honour?”

“You are accused of stealing from the treasury!” The leader yelled back.

“You mean the bounty I rightfully claimed?”

She was not given an answer. The group only broke into a run, trying to encircle them. Taking a deep breath, summoning all her strength and power from her dragonsoul. She could not kill them all, but she could not let this go unpunished either. Some would have to die.

“ _IIZ SLEN_!”

Ice burst from her mouth, encasing the on storming men. Shattering shrieks and ringing impacts followed. In front of her stood three statues of ice that glittered in the late afternoon sun. Around them lay the rest, encased completely in the ice, but not turned into it.

“My Thane, we should run before more are coming.” Lydia sheathed her sword and nodded frantically to the road they had taken.

Ayera nodded, but stepped to the nearest still living solder. Their eyes were blown wide in panic and horror as they could only stare at her approach.

“Listen well and tell Ulfric: This will never be forgotten and he should count himself lucky that I will never return to punish him for this dishonor.”

With that she whirled around, leaving the soldiers to be found by others. Their only hopes to survive would be someone finding them now or in the next moments. But she and Lydia were already racing down the road to the Whiterun Hold border where no one could bother them anymore.

The healers’ quarters were filled with moaning soldiers on stretchers. Having been frozen into ice was agonizing, especially when being thawed out. Not all had come back alive, a few had been turned into pure ice. Nothing left to be put into their family crypts. Those who had come back alive, not all of those would make it through the night. Frostbite eating at their limbs, a few had already lost their arms to amputation or would lose soon.

“We could not stop her…” The lieutenant wheezed, throwing up more ice clumps. “She just…”

He nodded in comfort, squeezing the man’s black-blue hand. “The Voice, the power of legends.”

The man convulsed a few more times, eyes blood shot, fighting for every breath and last grasps on his life. Death would come and he watched grimly as the man’s eyes grew blank. Setting the hand gently on the dead’s chest over his heart, Ulfric looked over to Galmar.

“That had been a warning.” His ever loyal housecarl grumbled.

Ulfric stood up, making way for the priests to take care of the body. They left the quarters, moving towards their war room.

“What else?” He growled as soon as the door slammed closed, leaving them alone.

Galmar remained silent with his obvious disapproval apparent. Not that he would ever voice it. Right now they had dead soldiers outside a battle. What was he going to write the condolence letters to their families?

“Official cause of death: Snowed in.” He ordered pointing at the stack of papers that had been prepared for him already. “We cannot let anyone suspect that the Dragonborn has a grudge against us.”

“Why not make her out as the enemy?”

“The people want their hero.” Ulfric slammed his fist on the table, the inkwell spraying ink everywhere. “Not to consider the diplomatic repercussions.”

“You did order her to be arrested.” Galmar finally broke his silence.

“On a legitimate charge.”

“My Jarl, she has provided proof as by Jorleif’s records.”

Ulfric laughed. “It would have been an easy explanation if we had caught her. Now the truth is out and we need to stay silent on the matter. She might stay silent as well.”

Galmar only stared at him, and Ulfric swore he saw worry dancing in his old friend’s face.

* * *

 


End file.
